


flames will lick your skin and i'll fall in love with you

by amhinyard



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: I just love them, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, No Smut, i Just., i'm gay ok and so are they, there's a lack of this everywhere okay?? LET ME LIVE, they're so gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 05:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9058285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amhinyard/pseuds/amhinyard
Summary: Theodore sometimes talks through kisses. Various sentences projected into the parting of his lips, the polite knock of his tongue against Draco’s mouth, the small thank you when he’s granted entrance to explore. It’s this language that Draco likes best, for he knows how to talk back.





	

  * Theodore Nott looks smaller when stood next to his father, Draco thinks.



Even though the old bastard is crippled and uses a cane to stand, he still somehow manages to loom over his son, make him seem insignificant. During the school-year, Theodore roams the halls with the same unmatched persona his father holds. He keeps to himself, mostly. He speaks in silence and educated glances, the likes of which Draco has learned to read as though it’s a necessary part of his studies. If given an exam on the language of Theodore Nott, he’d be able to tell you the intricate meaning behind the way he parts his lips to wet them, or in the way his jaw clenches, his eyes crinkle and his head tilts to express different ranges of emotion.

The rare times Theodore does speak, he knows how to use the room and the people within it to his advantage. There’s a cruel beauty in it, Draco finds.

When stood next to Raedan, however, Theodore says nothing at all. Even his stare lacks expression. By some extraordinary means, the simplicity of his father’s presence seems to make him disappear, and it seems as though he’s hardly there at all. Draco learned some years ago that their father’s were alike with their teachings and it made sense, the two men are friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if Lucius exchanged teaching methods with Raedan, and contrariwise.

The meeting tonight, held at Covingbow Manor, is used to discuss how best to deal with the uprising that the Dark Lord will eventually face. Draco and Theodore are the youngest attendees, and both fathers have their sons standing behind their chairs with their backs straight and chins raised and they’ve been told to listen, and they do. They listen so carefully and try to retain as much information as they can. One day, this will be their domain, and they will be seated where their fathers sit now. One day, they will serve the Dark Lord, as it has been planned for them.

Occasionally, Theodore and Draco’s eyes meet, but still, no words swim beneath the surface. Draco can tell his silence is heavily influenced by all of the eyes in the room. He’s afraid, afraid he’ll show too much, even to those who know not what to look for. There’s no indication, but Draco knows.

They stand until their knees are close to buckling, and then the Dark Lord announces they have a special guest, with them tonight. Raedan looks to his son and says, “You may go.” Theodore tenses for a moment and parts his lips as though to protest, but Raedan’s gaze has them closing just as quickly as he finalises, “ _Go_.” And it looks as though Theodore visibly relaxes. His father waves a hand, and Theodore carries himself, on heavy legs, out of the room and as far as he can get. 

Lucius, from what Draco can see, looks puzzled, unsure of whether to follow suit. Shortly after, he waves his hand in the same gesture, looks to _his_ son and says, “Leave us.”

Draco doesn’t need to be told twice. He takes quick steps beyond the threshold and releases a breath as soon as he knows he’s far enough that not even Nagini will hear him. He walks, silently with his thoughts as he composes himself. He knows the next time the Dark Lord wishes to make an example of someone, himself nor Theodore will be excused so lightly. Soon the transition will begin, and neither boy will be able to resist, in fear of their father’s wraths. Raedon with his words, and Lucius with his glares. Both of them with canes. 

His thoughts are cut short when he’s dragged by his sleeve into a dimly lit room that smells completely of Theodore. He smells of parchment and expensive ink, with hints of peppermint tea curled around them. A perfect combination, if ever there was one. The moment the door closes, his back is pressed against it, and when he searches the shadow above him he can sense the familiar curl of its lips before his eyes even adjust. 

“Evening.” Theodore says when his own vision finally adjusts behind the frames of his glasses, and Draco’s lips lift upwards at the sight of him. “I was wondering if I’d manage to catch you alone.”

“Ah, so he speaks.” He teases, pale fingers finding the lapels of an expensive-feeling blazer and making home there. 

Theodore’s brows neutralise in a way that says _I wish you wouldn’t_ and before Draco can say anything else, he’s silenced by Theodore’s lips on his and his hand braced beside him on the door, holding him captive against the oak. Theodore sometimes talks through kisses. Various sentences projected into the parting of his lips, the polite knock of his tongue against Draco’s mouth, the small _thank you_ when he’s granted entrance to explore. It’s this language that Draco likes best, for he knows how to talk back, stroking his own tongue against Theodore’s in a way that brings forth the perfect little sigh.

He studies the frustrated whine Theodore reluctantly releases when he separates them. “The meeting,” he says, stroking his fingertips across the soft skin of Theodore’s neck before his palm settles against his cheek.

“What about it?” Theodore breathes.

“They may send for us…” Draco’s eyelashes flutter, a troublesome sign. He knows they’ve been dismissed, and he’s also aware that dismissal is permanent. Nobody will come in search of them, but there’s a certain enjoyment in riling Theodore.

“Don’t tease.” Theodore warns, but his tone is void of malice, and he leans to press another kiss to Draco’s lips, who meets him halfway with a teasing grin, lips closed and hand straying from the brunet’s cheek and into his hair, twisting into tangled curls.

Draco decides to tease. Each time Theodore parts his lips, Draco refuses to do the same, holding back laughter, pressing their chests together and parting his legs by mere inches in a way that makes Theodore less compliant. Draco knows he has to give in, however, when finally Theodore invites his teeth to graze Draco’s lower lip and secures an arm around his waist, going as far as to wedge his knee between Draco’s thighs, grazing his crotch so lightly that he allows him what he’s after with a breathless laugh into Theodore’s mouth. _You’re eager_ , his kiss says, tongue sweeping Theodore’s and he adds, _very eager_.

_Shut up_ , Theodore’s replies, and Draco simply goes back to reading his intimate silence, quietly fingering the buttons of Theodore’s shirt and pushing it off of his shoulders. 

When Draco decides he’s had enough of standing with his back against the door — it’s _undignified_ — he pulls away again, and this time he feels the absence of Theodore’s lips in his gut, paired with a desperate _want_ to be connected to him again. “We’re not doing this against your fucking door,” he murmurs and he knows the message is received when Theodore gently pulls him from the door and takes light steps backwards, towards the bed Draco knows still has his scent stuck somewhere, perhaps on the pillow. 

The thought of it has him mouthing at Theodore’s neck, and in return has him releasing a symphony of breathy moans from those pretty lips of his, slender fingers working on the buttons of Draco’s shirt before pulling it off of his frame. The chill is evident but Theodore is warm as he falls against the plush bedspread, pushing himself up onto his pillows with Draco following suit, hovering over him. It’s not the first time Theodore’s been splayed beneath him, but each time he’s certain he looks every bit the embodiment of beauty, brown curls spread neatly over his pillow and kiss-swollen lips parted with silent wanting. 

With the upper-hand, Draco ducks his head and begins pressing open-mouthed kisses to Theodore’s skin, trailing his lips to his navel, marking his skin for himself. _You’re mine_ , _this is mine_ , _all of it_. Draco can talk in kisses too, and the way Theodore responds, fingers threading through blond strands, he understands _exactly_ what he’s trying to say. When he can’t stand the tension in his gut any longer, Theodore drags him back up, connecting their lips feverishly, and somehow manages to use his pleasure-shaken fingers to rid them both of their trousers so they can begin talking in other movements. They’re a mess of grinding hips and names breathlessly chanted like prayers, but it’s conversation enough for the both of them.

**Author's Note:**

> anyway um..........i just love them. a lot. tell me what you think over on my tumblr! http://lgbtnotts.tumblr.com


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